| This is hood life
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| All my thugs rolling on dubs, living the good life
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| This is hood life
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| Everyday we live our lives, like it’s the last time
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| This is hood life
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| Baby girl, if you don’t know, this is the hood life
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| This is hood life
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| Son died wit the gun on his waist
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| Watch the barrel spin, the rude one beg no friends
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| Arm self, we bomb for the wealth
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| And chant, men engage in battle, set the stage
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| I’m prepared with today’s Math, my mic be my rod and staff
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| All hail, this is Irief Jamel
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| Chief of the Chee Saw, gun you down southpaw
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| Still fuck my pussy raw, all praises due to Allah
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| Who wanna spar mind, on the 64
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| Truth be the bulletproof, be 'em wit the moo-moof
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| Truth within reach, born breach, I still teach
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| Civilization, to all the human families
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| Who’s the Spanish kid, damage your shit, and he reppin'
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| To a nasty track, get the crowd moving, just like my weapon
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| Disrespecting who? |
| Playboy, I thought you knew
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| Killarmy’s a congregation of niggas that’ll murder you
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| We talking prime time, no bells ringing, never heard of you
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| But if I died, and you fucking with fam, then I’m serving you
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| Personally, ain’t no rehearsing your speech
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| I give you chills when I come through like a chalkboard screech
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| I never ask for nothing twice, I usually take it
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| You’se a tool that don’t work right, and usually break it
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| I’m a keep it real nigga, ya’ll usually fake it
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| Ya’ll play around wit bitches, I strip 'em naked
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| I that hit you wit that Smith & Wess' I found in the lake, kid
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| Ya’ll don’t hear me? |
| Then ya’ll don’t need to be near me
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| I’m not insane, I think it’s just a life of pain
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| Raps, gats and drugs, just run through my veins
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| Not to mention, all that life adore
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| All the times I had to pull out and hit the floor
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| Exchange shots, empty the clip and serve one more
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| And if no one got hit, then we call it a draw
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| It’s hood life, if you been there, I don’t need to tell you
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| If you smell like swine or pussy, I don’t need to smell you
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| Play your part, my thoughts is like state of the art
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| X-rays, don’t play, slugs’ll rip you apart
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| First things first, just let it be known, blow 'em from the dirt
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| Putting in work to get mine, yo fuck getting jerked
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| See I find the true shine lie within scent
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| Blinding these dispising envious niggas who analyzing my men
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| Ya’ll weak cats? |
| I seek and destroy like break beats
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| I take heat, from the fake in the street, and tap your feet
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| You know what I mean, don’t touch me, rest of ya’ll get amped up
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| Like Guess jeans, but courtesy like dry cleaners specialty
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| The recipe to me be 36 forms of energy
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| Born and swarm on, any enemy, remember me?
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| Last name’s heard, and that’s my word, you shot back but missed me
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| You bird, you blazing me is crazy absurd
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| Handle the cannon like I’m Julius Irv' and ball wit it
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| Violate and I’mma leave that ass just out the curb
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| Aiyo when lightning strikes my brain, electricity travel through my body
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| Twenty thugs with snubs, all up in the party
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| Knight Rider Ferrari, bitches, guns and drugs
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| Lay around in the dining room
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| Staten Island Platoon coming soon, money, greed and the law
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| My lyrics is hot in the summer June
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| Without Loud Records, my Army make more noise than kaboom
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| Magazine queen turn fiend for CREAM
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| She drown in the pool of kerosene
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| Her big mouth is what lead to fire, to the gasoline, she blew up
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| Like Clint Eastwood in Unforgiven
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| 4th Disciple electronic musician
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| Bitch ass niggas play your position
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| Examine more bodies than a physician, physician… |